Page 55 of Justyce
The Sig P210 feels heavy in my shaky hands as my dad’s voice thunders behind me, drawing me from my inner turmoil. “Pull the fucking trigger, Justyce!”
I attempt to block out the grimy man on his knees pleading for me to spare his life, to give him one last chance to prove himself. I don’t think he realizes that I’m only playing cupid now. I may be aiming the gun, but at the end of the day it’s my father’s wrath we want to both avoid.
“For fuck sakes, Justyce, if you don’t shoot this maggot in ten seconds, you’re going to wish you weren’t my son. I didn’t raise you to be this fucking weak! Ten!” he booms.
I gaze into the man’s muddied brown eyes and watch as the tears trickle down his unshaven face. He’s beseeching for me not to end his life, telling me he has a wife and kids at home that he doesn’t want to leave behind.
“Five, four, three. Justyce, I’m not playing, boy,” my father seethes.
I lift the gun higher and aim it at the man’s forehead like my dad showed me. My hands feel like they’ve got Parkinson’s disease by how much they’re shaking.
“Two… One!”
I mouth to the man on his knees sorry right before I press my finger down on the trigger and shoot him in the head.
A hand slaps over my shoulder, jolting me out of my head. That’s when I discover my eyes are clenched closed.
Slowly my lids peel up, allowing me to inspect the damage in front of me. His head is unrecognizable with his brains hanging out of his skull. I feel the bile swirl like fermented milk in my stomach as I peer down to witness his blood splattered all over my clothes. I can feel his blood drying on my skin so I quickly swipe the gluggy plasma from my cheek, feeling shaky.
“It’s about time,” my father utters in my ear. I don’t answer him. Instead I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep the vomit from spilling out. Wrenching myself out of his hold, I run toward the exit.
Glass and debris crunches under my feet before the wind smacks me across the face and the ground turns to dead grass.
Hunching over, I empty out the contents in my stomach until I dry reach and choke on air. Wetness coats my cheeks from the tears leaking from my eyes.
I stand tall, take a deep breath, and look around the desolate space, wishing I was anywhere but here.
Horripilation breaks out over my body as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I know without even turning around my father is standing behind me, no doubt disappointed with the calamity that I am.
Draconis tuts, “I don’t know why I had high hopes for you this time, Justyce. Why are you always such a fucking disappointment?”
I stutter to answer him but nothing comes out, and the last thing I remember is the feeling of something hard hitting the back of my head before my world faded to black.
I wrestle myself from the memory, hyperventilating. I can’t remember the last time I was rendered debilitated to that capacity from my fucked up childhood.
Finally my breath evens out and I begin to feel like myself again. Pushing my hair back with my hand, I notice it’s all sticky and wet, damp from the sweat the memory elicited.
I wasn’t the only one in the Tartarus Mafia who suffered from these types of flashbacks. Some of us had it worse than others, but I’m not falling down that decrepit and mangy rabbit hole now.
I need to get my shit together and stop the anger from overriding my sanity, what little of it that’s left anyway.Focus, Justyce.
My eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror before I pull back onto the road and head toward Acheron’s so we can settle this score once and for all. I allow the cool air to caress over my sweaty skin as I gun it the rest of the way to Acheron’s.
Parking my car in the drive, I hop out and walk up the black paved walkway to Acheron’s front door. This house resembles my brother to a tee. Every level of his three story home is different shades of charcoal and greys, from the inside out, minus the ceiling and floors.
Pressing my index finger to the hidden id pad, I wait for the door to click and signal my entry. The light turns green and the door opens a little. Pushing through the door, my feet hit the white tiles as I’m welcomed into the lair of Acheron.
The graphite walls are bare, with the exception of the gothic like candles lining them as I walk upstairs toward Acheron’s games room. Blacked out eyes on faces of people and demons alike occupy the walls of the second floor, followed by more sinister looking art.
The deeper I step into Acheron’s abode, the darker it becomes. Reaching the end of the hallway I hear Raine’s laughter infiltrate the air and the thought of hearing Kenzi’s laugh slips through my mind.Not the time, Justyce.I scold myself.
Stepping into the games room I’m met with stark sudden silence and three sets of eyes gawking at me. The boys are standing stock still with pool cues in their hands while Raine lounges on the black sofa in the corner.
Acheron is the first to speak out. “No offence, brother, but you look like shit. Are you alright?”
I scoff and flip him off before taking a seat at Acheron’s bar to pour myself a McCallan’s. Lifting the glass to my mouth, I take a sip of the much needed amber liquid then turn to look at my brothers and sister.
Shrugging my shoulders I say, “What do you think? My father is trying to kill me. He’s setting up rats in our club, and if that’s not enough, I have to deal with those shitty fucking flashbacks.”
